


A Call Today, A World Away

by DontDoHeroinKids



Series: Amongst the Lights of Foreign Skies (Owl House Stories) [1]
Category: The Owl House (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, Family, Gen, Mother-Daughter Relationship, POV Third Person Limited, Post-Episode: s01e19 Young Blood Old Souls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:28:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26757277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DontDoHeroinKids/pseuds/DontDoHeroinKids
Summary: The end of summer has come, and Luz Noceda should be finished with her stint at the Reality Check Summer Camp.Camilia waits at home for her daughter to arrive - and waits, and waits, and waits.Her only hope at this point is to call her little girl, and pray she picks up.
Relationships: Camilia Noceda & Luz Noceda, Eda Clawthorne & Lilith Clawthorne, Eda Clawthorne & Luz Noceda
Series: Amongst the Lights of Foreign Skies (Owl House Stories) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2164650
Comments: 20
Kudos: 346
Collections: All things Disney





	A Call Today, A World Away

One of the most important things they teach you in med school, above all, is: _stay calm._

You can’t patch a bleeding wound or corral a panicking child if you’re losing your head. So when Camilia returns home from her shift to a darkened house, her daughter nowhere in sight, she doesn’t let herself panic.

You can’t control everything in life. Luz could easily have been delayed on getting home from camp – too few seats, a dying phone battery, bad weather… Anything’s possible. So instead of worrying about what-ifs, Camilia takes charge of what she can while she waits.

The living room is straightened up, jackets and boots stowed in the closet (even though there’s so little clutter with her little girl gone for the summer). Books and mail and bills placed aside, sorted away for later reference and payments to clear space at the table for two (something she hasn’t needed, when she’s sent her little girl away for months). She lights the stove, gentle sizzles and pops echoing through the quiet kitchen as she puts one of her daughter’s favorite meals on the stove, meat browning slowly (the meal smells like home). So, so slowly, giving her time to think and worry.

Dinner chills and the sky blackens before Camilia finally surrenders to the knot growing in the pit of her gut. She’s lost her appetite, worrying over her missing _mija_ – so she hunts down more chores to wrangle into submission, charged phone in her pocket, its vibration set high as she distracts herself.

The chime of the worn, ticking clock set over the stove that announces midnight is what breaks her patience. Luz is flighty, and reckless, but she isn’t normally this _negligent_. She should’ve – would’ve – reached out to her _mami_ by now.

Something’s wrong, and the twisting in Camilia’s stomach is rearing its head.

But her phone is her only lifeline to her daughter, because she wasn’t _home._ Luz wasn’t safe, so far away at summer camp, even if her occasional letters spoke to the contrary.

She’s scared – of making her fears a reality, if her little girl doesn’t pick up. But she has to try.

Camilia calls her daughter directly, one hand slipping beneath the collar of her shirt to worry at the worn metal cross dangling on thin gold chain.

The tone rings once, twice, three times. A dull chime that grates at her nerves, then –

_Click._ A soft gasp.

_“Mami? Can you – can you hear me alright?”_

Camilia nearly chokes on her sigh of relief, her free hand graduating to rub at her sore temple as she gives a desperate little chuckle.

“Luz! Ah, _mi amor,_ don’t worry me like that! You’ve had your poor mother getting worked up over nothing, heh.”

_“Ah – I’m so sorry, mami, I didn’t think the line would get through!”_

The lilting pitch of her daughter’s voice is a balm to Camilia’s nerves, even as she registers her response.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart? Has the camp been having phone troubles out there? I was wondering where you were, the bus was supposed to bring you by the house at this point…”

Silence from her girl, for several long, tense moments.

“… _Mija?_ The – the camp’s just having a rough time getting everybody packed up to head home, right? Ha…”

_“…I… I don’t know.”_

The panic was growing again, burning in Camilia’s breastbone.

“W-what do you mean by that, love? Have you… left Reality Check camp yet?”

She hears her Luz take a deep, steadying breath through the phone.

_“I’m not at the summer camp right now, mami.”_

That – that wasn’t right. Luz was supposed to be _at_ _camp_ (safe, and learning how to be an adult, and maybe making friends) or just leaving it now, if she wasn’t -?

“ _Mija_.” Camilia tries not to let the swelling terror fill her voice, fighting down the crack in her words she knows is trying to come through. “If you’re in danger, love, tell me your _abuela’s_ surname. Please, sweetheart.”

_“Mami! It’s okay, I’m alright, just – don’t panic.”_ Her daughter’s trying to soothe her pounding heart, and it isn’t _working,_ because she won’t tell Camilia what she means. _“I’m not in danger, or kidnapped or anything. I’m – with some friends right now, and it’s just – I might be stuck here. For… for a while.”_

“Why, sweetie?” Friends? Luz finally says she has _friends_ , and then claims she can’t come home because of them, and Camilia wishes she could be happy for her daughter right now. “Are they keeping you there? If they think I won’t call the police in a heartbeat-!”

_“Ah, no mom, please!”_ Luz sounds more flustered than upset at her comment. _“It’s not their faults, it’s – it’s mine.”_

Luz pulls audibly pulls away from the phone, Camilia can hear her taking more deep breaths (trying to calm down just like her mother the nurse had shown her, especially with how excitable she always was) before the phone moves back, a harsh burst of interference coming through as she sighs into the cell’s receiver.

_“I’m… I’m_ _really far from home, right now. I didn’t go to summer camp at all, mami.”_

Camilia is trying to keep her heart from breaking, now, her frantic mind trying to connect the dots to a line of thinking she never wanted to consider as the fear blossoms fully, unfolding and unleashing the horrid thoughts she’d kept buried beneath busywork.

_“M-mija?”_ God, her voice is trembling, and she hopes her daughter can’t hear the tears in her voice, even as she assumes the worst. “Please, _mi amor_ – I’m sorry I tried to send you away. I – I just wanted what’s best for you, the schools, they – they never understood you. I just couldn’t watch you get hurt by the world, anymore-”

_“No, no! Mami, te quiero mucho! I wouldn’t – I’m not running away from home. It’s just-”_ Another sigh, more agitated this time as Luz feeds off the panic of her sobbing mother. “ _I’m safe here, I_ promise. _My friends would never hurt me, they mean the world to me. I just don’t know how to make you_ believe _me, when I tell you what happened.”_

She tries to reign in her spiraling emotions as her little girl moves away from the phone again, quietly hemming and hawing with a determined tone as she considers something in the background. Long moments pass as Luz obviously brainstorms up some kind of desperate solution to try and make her mother stop crying, and – God, Camilia has to get a hold of herself, her sweetheart can’t come _home_ and what if she needs her help –

( _If she isn’t lying,_ whispers a dark corner of her despairing mind. _If she even wants to come home at all._ )

The worried sounds of her beloved child bring Camilia up, out of her nosediving psyche.

_“Ok, mami. I have an idea. I really didn’t think that my phone would still connect to back home, after – after, um, some trouble we had here. But that’s great news!”_ Luz’s unending optimism was heartening to hear, even if her daughter was – for all intents and purposes – a world away from Camilia, right now. _“If we can do regular calls, maybe we can have a video chat get through. My signal still seems pretty strong right now, so – let’s try it. I can_ show _you the truth. Can you start a video call on your end, mami? Just in case you have a better connection?”_

That meant she had to hang up on her daughter to start a new call. It should only take a few seconds, but –

But Luz was supposed to be home, now. At home, and safe with stories and friends and real-world lessons, not – gone.

She must be able to sense Camilia’s apprehension from her hesitant silence.

_“Don’t worry, I’ll call you right back if it doesn’t work! Now that I know my phone’s still good to go, I can call and text you whenever you want, okay? It’s going to be alright. I just need to make you understand what’s going on, and… it’s hard with only words and pictures you’re not gonna believe, trust me.”_

It’s her turn to follow her own advice now, so she forces herself to take a steadying breath (in through the nose, out through the mouth, _mija_ , just like you’re playing sports) -

“Okay, Luz. Speak to you soon. _Te quiero._ ”

_“Te quiero, mami.”_

Camilia’s fingers shake a little as she hangs up, closing the only line she has right now to her little girl as she rushes through opening a video call to Luz, the obnoxious dial tone really making her want to pitch the phone across the room, right now –

And then Luz’s face snaps into frame, framed by darkness as her phone casts a solitary light into the room, and Camilia freezes –

She sighs with relief, her chair creaking in protest as she slumps into it, the sight of her daughter’s unblemished face – eyes shining with her own relief – knocking the tension from her body.

A nurse’s critical eye gives her a quick once-over, spotting no undue bruises or cuts, but that didn’t guarantee anything. If she was hurt, if she was being abused, even her short sleeves could hide the imprints of fingers or a fist –

_“Ha ha, yes! I knew it would work!”_ Luz crows victoriously, and by all that’s holy Camilia didn’t realize how much she missed the boundless energy of her little girl these last few weeks. It’s a ray of sunshine that helps drive some of the fear from her heart, because not even the eternally sunshiny Luz Noceda could fake so much enthusiasm if things were that bad.

“ _Dios bueno_ , honey, it’s good to see you.” Camilia swallows thickly, swiping lingering moisture from her eyes as she gives her sweetheart a wobbly smile. “You need to be kinder on your old mother’s heart, _si?_ You know I’m no good with those horror movies you love – I just don’t do suspense very well.”

Luz gives a sheepish chuckle, fingers ruffling through her growing curls as she looks away.

“I know, I know. I really am sorry, mom.” She turns back to the camera, her expression growing serious and sad, so unlike the Luz she knows, as her energy simmers down to manageable levels. “I was just – really afraid of finding out whether or not I’d actually get a call through, today. It… it’s been on my mind the last few weeks, and…”

And there goes the momentary relief, she thinks.

“Sweetheart, let’s start at the beginning.” Camilia’s tone is gentle, now, as she forces herself to focus through the fear and keep Luz on track. “Let’s prioritize, one thing at a time. Now, where _are_ you, if you aren’t at summer camp?”

Luz visibly steels herself, straightening and setting her shoulders as she scoops up her phone, standing from her former position, which Camilia now realizes was on the floor.

Or, more accurately her sleeping bag – only one of several outstanding clues as her camera pans across the dark room her daughter is occupying. Her bag and toiletries are sitting next to the head of her sack, the dull glint of glass revealing the framed picture of the pair of them that normally sat in Luz’s bedroom. The rest of the room was filled with dark, misshapen objects, looming out of the gloom and feeding into Camilia’s growing dread and curiosity.

“Let’s go see if anyone’s still awake first, _mami_. Eda could help me explain some stuff, if she’s still up. It’s… been a long day, for everyone.”

Camilia can barely contain the litany of questions battering at her nerves. Who, exactly, is this “Eda” character? Did she own the strange house that Luz was carrying her phone through, the one with eerily glowing candles and twisting, unnerving artwork lining the walls? And – more importantly – why did it look like someone had shoved her little girl in a dusty old _attic_ of all places?

It wasn’t until Luz turned at the main stairs, descending into the sprawling living room that she’s hit with the odd appeal of the strange home. The central chamber – from the little she can see – looks a lot more lived in, more homely and well-used. Strange relics fill shelves and sit atop drawers, but they aren’t all arcane and unknowable. Some are clearly photos and trophies, or sentimental pieces somebody has ensured stay spotless and illuminated. Plush, dated furniture fills the center of the room, mismatched throw blankets tossed haphazardly over an aging couch and chairs.

And seated there, are clearly _otherworldly_ individuals.

The women taking up a pair of opposing recliners – the tension evident in their posture, even through a tiny phone screen – stop mid-sentence as Luz descends into the room, turning to meet her arrival. Something bothers Camilia about their outfits and their features, but it isn’t until Luz closes the gap that she really gets a sense for how odd this pair is.

One is a strikingly tall woman, her immaculately tailored dress and sea-green tresses at odds with the startled expression on her face as Camilia’s daughter approaches. She looks like a character from one of Luz’s well-worn fantasy novels, striking heterochromatic eyes and unnaturally pale skin at odds with her little girl’s own tanned self.

And, of course, the prominently _pointed ears_ that peak from beneath her smooth curtain of hair.

Of course, none of that detracts from the explosive appearance of her companion.

The other woman is the polar opposite of the first, a gravity-defying mane of silver locks sprouting from her head, offset only by her other, more bizarre features. Pointed ears, pale flesh, her own set of mismatched irises (just like the other woman, so similar they must be family) and a singular gold fang snagging at her lip.

And then there’s the tender, patient look she directs towards Luz, that has Camilia’s heart clenching again because she knows that expression – a mirror to her own, always reserved for her wonderful, exasperating daughter.

_“Luz?”_ The wild woman’s voice is throaty and rich, her tone full of concern for Camilia’s little girl that makes her stomach twist further with how _maternal_ it sounds. _“What’s the matter, kid? I thought you were headed to bed. It’s awfully late for you to be up.”_

_“Hi, Eda. I, uh – I got a call. From my mom.”_

That has Luz’s companions sitting up straight, surprise evident on their faces.

_“Oh – oh! Your little communication box got through to her?”_ Eda’s face cracks into a warm smile that seems more at home for her features. _“That’s great news, girly! Is she still available?”_

Luz gives a tiny snort of amusement at that.

_“Yeah, actually – she has a video call set up. Mom can see you guys right now.”_

Eda gives a little indignant squawk, patting frantically at her dress and untamable expanse of hair in a panic, as the other woman checks herself similarly (though with greater dignity).

_“What!?! Come on, Luz, you gotta give me a little more warning than that! I’m trying to give your mother the right impression, you know, not let her know – err, think that I live in a sty!”_

Camilia can’t help her own amused snort that bubbles to the surface, cutting through the miasma of fear at the sight of the comically genuine distress coming from her daughter’s host. She can’t stop the quip that slips out.

“That’s quite alright, Miss, uh – Eda. I don’t believe your house can be worse off than my daughter’s room, if I don’t make sure to badger her about it.”

_“Mami, no! You know I’m just bad with keeping things organized!”_ Luz’s mortified complaint breaks the spell on the older woman, who gives her a smug smirk at her embarrassed whine.

_“Oh, believe me – after a few months with Luz, I’ve certainly learned that. I don’t know how many times I’ve tripped over a stack of grimoires because she wanted to reorganize my entire library looking for ‘references.’”_

Her little girl’s indignant spluttering gets a laugh from Eda, and it’s almost enough to distract Camilia from her odd choice of language – until the striking woman stands up, dusting off her lap with one hand as she ruffles Luz’s curls with the other.

_“Ah, c’mon kid, you know I’m just messing with you. Now, let’s get properly introduced to your momma.”_

Eda strikes an exaggerated pose, one high-heeled boot planted on the couch triumphantly as she gazes heroically into the middle distance, her smug smile (which fits her so much more naturally) back in place.

_“Greetings, Ms. Noceda! You speak to Eda the Owl Lady – the most powerful and wanted witch on the Boiling Isles, a master of all magical forms, and your daughter’s spellcasting tutor!”_ After a moment, she coughs into her fist, a little sheepish. _“Ah, well, I_ was _the most powerful. That’s… pending, right now.”_

Dead silence follows her pronouncement.

“Uh…”

Camilia can’t even begin to unpack that statement, her jaw a little slack at the display in front of her. She’s fairly certain she can hear Luz let out an embarrassed little groan on the background, even as she tries to wrap her mind around the bold proclamation that was just dumped into her lap.

The emotional whiplash of the conversation keeps her frozen, until a disgruntled throat-clear sounds off from behind the dramatically posing “Owl Lady.”

_“Sister. I think you’re forgetting something?”_

The other woman looks incredibly unamused at her sibling’s antics, arms crossed with a mild expression of aggravation directed towards the flamboyant woman perched on the couch. Eda breaks form to give her sister a defiant look, mirroring her pose with a ‘harrumph.’

_“Uh - no, Lily, I don’t think I have. I’ve introduced myself, Luz’s magical teacher and owner of the Owl House. Who’s left, one of the standing members of the Freeloader Brigade?”_

Camilia watches in bemusement as “Lily” gives a frustrated growl, lunging forward and shoving her preening sister over the back of the couch with a shocked yelp, before turning to face Luz. She schools her frustrated expression back into one of careful neutrality, clasping her hands before her as she bows slightly to the phone camera.

_“My apologies for Edalyn, Ms. Noceda. It’s a pleasure to finally speak with you. I am Lilith Clawthorne, the… former head of the Emperor’s Coven, and current houseguest of my sister.”_

Camilia’s context for the situation has, inexplicably, decreased since her daughter stepped downstairs. Instead of a more cognizant response, she falls back on loose habits of hospitality.

“Please, just call me Camilia. It’s-” A pleasure? A shock? She’s lost, now, and her anxiety over her little girl’s situation is clawing back up her throat. “-Nice to meet you both. You’re the ones who have been looking after my daughter?”

Eda appears once more to drape herself over the spine of the old couch, enthusiasm visibly dampened by her impromptu tumble.

_“Ah, no that’s just me. This is my home, and Lily is a… fairly recent arrival. Who doesn’t pay rent.”_

Camilia can see the argument brewing with the second Clawthorne’s twitching eyelid, and moves to cut them off before the conversation becomes any more derailed. There’s only so much more she can handle, tonight, and her frustration is brewing.

“And you’re claiming that you can teach my daughter, Luz, magic."

A beat between words.

"Which, as you know, doesn’t exist.”

The exhausted fear that’s been driving her all night is flagging, now, making way for a growing kernel of anger at the buffoonery occurring before her.

“My daughter Luz, who claims she _can’t come home_ now. Because she’s living with people who promised her real, honest-to-God _magic._ ”

Her words cut across the response forming on Eda Clawthorne’s lips, making her choke on her sentence as Camilia picks up steam, her frayed temper flaring at its breaking point.

“My daughter isn’t at her summer camp, she isn’t here – _safe,_ at home – and she tells me she’s stuck there. So I would like to know why, exactly, I shouldn’t call the police or - or the FBI _right now_ and let them know my little girl’s been _kidnapped_ by a bunch of crazy _idiotas_!”

Camilia’s standing now and she doesn’t remember moving, her breathing harsh as she glares down at her phone, at the roomful of shocked strangers who have her _nina preciosa._

_“Mami…”_

The camera swings around to face Luz, her face scrunched up in concern as she addresses her fuming mother.

_“They aren’t lying. I can’t go home because – because I’m in their world, right now. The Boiling Isles. And they_ have _taught me magic, how to be a witch.”_

Her sweet girl, so sincere and determined, keeping her voice soft to appease her terrified parent. Luz shifts, holding the camera away from her body as she picks up a notepad from the stained coffee table at her knees.

_“Here Eda, can you hold my phone? I need to show my mom what I’ve discovered so far.”_

_“Ah, uh, alright. I just – keep the flat side pointed towards you, right?”_

_“Yup, just like that. Perfect, hold it still.”_

Camilia wants to interrupt, to beg – to demand – her little girl explain herself, to run far away from these bizarre folks that have taken her. But the words stick in her throat at the look of pure concentration on Luz’s face, etching out some unknowable scribble onto the pad before her. Her pencil skids across the paper with finality, and she tilts the page up towards her mother to display the intricate, perfected rune she has transcribed.

_“Mami, magic is real. And I can_ do it _now.”_

Luz taps the page lightly, the circle bursts into light, and Camilia’s eyes widen in shock.

The page curls up without guidance, swirling into a brilliant orb of soft yellow light that _floats_ there without interference. Her daughter gently cups the sphere, directing it into her lap as she gazes at it in joy at her success.

Camilia is near speechless.

“Luz, what… what did you do?”

_“She performed her own magic.”_

Eda’s voice comes from behind the tinny phone camera, her pride plainly evident.

_“Luz figured out how to cast spells in a way that we haven’t seen in generations, and she figured it out on her own.”_

Luz looks towards the camera, hesitant and hopeful, even as she sketches out another symbol on sheet paper.

_“She’s the first human to ever attend our town’s school for witchlings, too. And she’s already better than half of them.”_ Edalyn Clawthorne sounds like it’s _her_ daughter that she’s talking about, in that moment.

Camilia’s throat closes up, mixed emotions filling her as her daughter – joyful, optimistic, bullheaded Luz – slaps the page in her palm and a flower sprouts off the page, grown from almost nothing as the yellowed page furls out into healthy, new roots for the plant.

It’s a beautiful bloom, a blood red rose – Camilia Noceda’s favorite flower – with just a hint of otherworldliness in its looping stem and exposed, grasping roots.

_“She’s been a real joy around here, Camilia.”_ Eda’s voice softens warmly, but haltingly, as she steps into new territory with someone who is clearly upset with her actions. _“The Boiling Isles and the wider Demon Realm are amazing, but they’re also full of their own dangers.”_

A short laugh, humorless now, as the happiness leaks from her breath.

_“Luz has already saved my rear more than once.”_ A world-weary sigh. _“And that’s why it’s my fault that she’s stuck here.”_

_“Wha– Eda!”_ Luz leaps to her feet, biting at her lip anxiously as her fists curl defiantly. _“That’s not true. I made my decision, not you! I – I knew what I was getting into.”_ But her tone falters as she winces, rubbing at her arm as she refuses to meet Camilia’s eyes across the screen.

_“No, kid.”_ The older woman’s voice is sterner now, refusing to budge on her stance. _“And even if you did, you shouldn’t have had to make that choice. I should’ve been more careful, but I was still living the free and easy – even with a student to look after.”_

Camilia is selfishly glad that Eda hands the phone back to Luz in that moment, shifting the camera away from the tears slipping out from her baby’s control and down her face.

The Owl Lady looks even older in that moment than her odd appearance would suggest, the ecstatic energy of earlier that night abandoning her as she hunches in on herself, seated at the faded couch. Her sister looks inexplicably guilty in the background, fidgeting horribly despite her efforts to appear prim and proper. Lilith’s eyes focus on anything but the phone or her sibling, and Camilia has a sneaking suspicion that there was more to their at-odds relationship than the antagonistic banter may have implied.

Eda is pinching the bridge of her nose, an exhausted look of resignation on her face as she looks towards Luz’s camera.

_“There’s some pretty colorful and nasty people around here. We’ve tangled with them a few different times now. And I… got myself stuck real bad, recently. I tried to get Luz out the same way she wandered in here, through the portal I use to visit the Human Realm. But…”_

The witch looks like she is choking on sour fruit, trying to force the words out, and Luz takes over the narration.

_“One of the big bad guys tried to take it off me when I was trying to save Eda. The only way I could save her life was… to give him the portal.”_

She’s fighting back tears, now, because Camilia has a feeling she knows how this story is going to end. Luz continues on, her voice dull and defeated, so unnatural for her baby girl to be.

_“I… I could hear Eda above. She was_ dying, _mami. I had to save her. I’m so, so sorry…”_

She can hear the sob in Luz’s voice, but her tone hardens, even as her words are wet and croaky.

_“So I gave him the portal. But I didn’t let him keep it.”_

There’s something almost vicious in her tone, now.

_“There’s no way anything he wanted it for was good. So I handed it to him, and when he let me go get Eda – I set off the fire spells I’d stuck to it.”_

Camilia swipes at her eyes again, forcing herself to count her blessings (her daughter is safe, and comfortable, and loved, even if it isn’t here with her) and tries not to focus on the miserable occupants of the Owl House, shying away from the phone like kicked dogs.

If she lets herself slip, she doesn’t know if she’ll ever recover. What matters is that Luz seems okay, and she’s with people who care about her, and God above Camilia wishes she were there with her to watch Luz being so infuriatingly _adult_ for once.

After long seconds of wrestling for her self-control, she tells her Luz the truth.

“I’m upset that you ran off to this… magical world on your own, _mija._ I wish you had told me sooner, before… before all of this.”

She presses on, before her daughter crumbles under the weight of her words.

“But Luz, I am so very proud of you.”

Her baby’s voice catches wetly from offscreen.

“You found a way to live out your dreams that I never would have ever thought possible. You’ve made friends and learned so much, away from home.”

Camilia laughs, and it’s a sad little thing, but – there’s a little more to it, buried deep.

“I wish you could come home right now, _mi amor_. But you – you did good, honey. You saved the life of someone you care for. You’re growing up, and you’re doing it your own crazy way just like you’ve always done.”

The phone spins around to face Luz, sniffling as tears track down her cheeks. She moves across the room, and it tugs at Camilia’s heart once more, watching her daughter curl up into Eda Clawthorne’s side as one slender arm wraps around her baby’s shoulders.

The Owl Lady’s face is solemn, her eyes flinty and determined as she comforts the quietly crying teen cuddling up to her on the couch.

_“We’re going to get Luz another way home, Camilia. I’m not letting those pricks win, not by a longshot. It might take a while, but… I know we can get it done.”_

It’s reassuring to hear her conviction, even if Camilia can’t help but find the words a little hollow. But she doesn’t let it show on her face – instead, she just gives a tired nod and smile to the Owl Lady, feeling like lead was settling around her shoulders.

Luz’s soft cries slow after a while, her daughter looking drowsy and miserable with her face pressed gently into the witch’s scarlet dress. The night’s conversation has taken a toll, despite its brevity. Camilia can feel the pull of sleep dragging at her, compounded by the exhausted sense of anxiety at her daughter’s situation, eyelids drooping against her will in the late hour.

Eda gives a pointed look towards Luz as she and her mother yawn, almost in synch. Under any other circumstances, that would be a lot more amusing, but right now – it just makes Camilia’s heart ache all the harder.

_“Now that we know Luz’s, uh… phone works without the portal being present, we can keep you in the loop. Give you updates on finding a new doorway, all that jazz.”_ Eda stretches like a lounging feline, her own yawn forcing its way out as she readjusts to hug Luz once more. _“But it’s been a real long night, and I think we all could do with getting some sleep right now.”_

She’s still hesitant to let her baby out of her sight, but the woman is right. Camilia’s trying not to fall asleep at the table, and Luz looks about ready to pass out in the witch’s armpit. She wakes up a bit more at that announcement, however, focusing in on her exhausted mother.

_“I’ll make sure to text you every day from now on, mami. And we can do more stuff, like send you pictures and do video calls, now that you know all about the whole… ‘magic is real’ thing.”_

Luz perks up at her own suggestions, a fragile smile blooming briefly.

_“Why don’t I call you tomorrow? I can tell you about Hexside Academy, and all of my friends there!”_

Camilia’s smile now is a bit more genuine, a little bit of life returning to her at her daughter’s unbridled enthusiasm, even when she’s fighting against falling asleep on the spot.

“That sounds lovely, _mija._ I’ll always have time to hear your stories.”

Luz visibly brightens at that, even with puffy red eyes and salty tear streams glued to her cheeks.

_“I’ll make sure my phone’s charged and everything. Oh, maybe some of them can come visit tomorrow since it’s the weekend! And you can meet King and Hooty, here at the Owl House…”_

Her baby was okay. They were both going to be alright. And she would always wait for her little girl to make it home safe.

“It’s a date, then.” A small chuckle. “I’ll speak to you tomorrow, Luz. _Te quiero._ ”

_“Te quiero, mami.”_

And then, a little quieter:

_“Nosotras estaremos juntas pronto, lo se.”_

The call ends shortly thereafter, and Camilia is left sitting in the darkened kitchen, in a house by herself.

That night, preparing for bed, she clasps her hands before her and prays, long and hard, for her little girl’s safety. There were still so many questions – about Luz’s arrival, and the letters, and just what was so dangerous that her daughter would throw away her only path home. But they were all questions for another day.

She expects tumultuous thoughts to hound her until morning, but as soon as she flops into bed, Camilia Noceda falls into a deep slumber.

It was mercifully dreamless.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time posting within this fandom, and the first time in a long time I've tried my hand at any real creative writing for the last decade, so please excuse the inevitable rough edges.
> 
> I've seen a few stories here focus on the aftermath of the Season 1 Finale, but none of them really ever emphasized the inevitable interaction of Luz and her mother regarding the terrifying news your child can't come home to you, so I decided I'd try my hand at filling that.
> 
> We'll see where things go with this - I had fun getting back into writing, and I do have some other ideas for short stories and interactions with Luz and Camilia post-finale that I think might have some worth to them.


End file.
